Mistress Mine
by Living Dead Girl 07
Summary: Fill for the meme. Focusing on the aftercare of a BDSM scene.


"Twenty-five!" Fenris wailed as the last strike fell.

His face, mashed against the padding in the converted saw horse, was red and blotchy, wet from all his tears. He sobbed, drawing great, heaving breaths. His chest ached with the effort, pushing against the unyielding padding. Out of sight, his Mistress could be heard putting away the cane and heating the copper tub of water waiting in the adjoining room. Pain flared along his lower back, thighs, and buttocks. He couldn't stop crying.

It was wonderful, exactly what he'd needed, but _Maker_ it hurt. Mistress had held nothing back, exactly what he'd wanted, and deserved. He'd behaved abominably, he knew he had. As he tried to stem the flow of his tears and calm his breathing, he wondered what was worse—the punishment, or these moments afterwards when Mistress let him stew over it.

Footsteps heralded his Mistress's return from the other room. Gentle hands deftly undid the restraints on his wrists and ankles. Fresh sobs erupted at her soft touch. Always, _always_, Mistress was gentle and kind after his punishments, no matter how horribly he'd acted. He didn't deserve it. Strong arms, reinforced with selective force magic, lifted and carried him to the other room, his Mistress making gentle shushing noises the whole way.

The hot water stung his welts at first, but he allowed himself to relax within the heat. As his Mistress gently washed his aching body, his tears ceased. Despite the pain, despite his raw guilt over his behavior, he basked in the praise she showered over, soaking it in, allowing himself to be reminded that he was valuable, that his Mistress did care for him.

"I'm so proud of you," she cooed, softly running a cloth over tender flesh. "You bore that so well, I knew you could. My precious, little darling; Mistress's good boy, aren't you?"

He nodded sleepily, knowing she didn't truly expect a response. When he was clean and relaxed, Mistress helped him stand, running a fluffy towel over him. Scooping him up in her arms again, Mistress carried him from the playroom to her bedchambers. She settled him on the bed before stripping and climbing in next to him, tucking him against her body and pulling the covers up around them both. Fenris reveled in the physical contact, in her warmth, in the fingers running through his damp hair. He had been wound so tight lately, but now he was drained, physically and emotionally. It was bliss; until Mistress started speaking again.

"While you performed admirably, it's time to discuss what led us there in the first place, Pet."

Fenris' heart sank. He'd never deny that he had deserved every second of that punishment, but talking about it was…difficult, to say the least. He could feel his Mistress's eyes boring into the top of his head, waiting for him to speak. Stiff and uncomfortable, he finally responded.

"I…I'm sorry, Mistress. What I did was…inexcusable. I just…I felt—I couldn't…" He broke off with a frustrated sigh. Risking a glance up, he saw the frown on his Mistress's face. Guilt washed through him again, but how could he explain what he had been thinking if he didn't even know himself? He opened his mouth to try again, but closed it quickly when two fingers came to rest against his lips.

"I think I know exactly what happened, Pet." Fenris risked another glance upwards. Mistress was still frowning, but she looked more contemplative than angry. "I think you wanted attention."

Fenris opened his mouth, whether to confirm or argue he wasn't sure, but one look from Mistress had him snapping it shut again before he could even make a sound.

"I think you were feeling anxious, cagey, and instead of coming to me, as we agreed, you decided to act out until I gave you what you needed. Isn't that right, Pet?"

Shame washed through him, yet again. Mistress was right. That restless feeling had had him practically climbing the walls, but every time he thought about going to her, it felt like his throat closed off. His frustration grew, and he had reacted the only way he could think—disobedience. Eyes downcast, he nodded.

Cool fingers cupped his chin, drawing his face upwards. His Mistress looked him firmly in the eye.

"We've talked about this, Pet. You don't have to act out to get my attention, and you _never_ have to be afraid to talk to me."

"I know that, Mistress, I do, but it's…difficult for me to…my feelings are…I don't…I'm sorry," he whispered at the end, tears threatening to fall once again. Mistress pulled him in close, tucking his head under her chin. Her heartbeat soothed something in him, but he clung to her all the same. Gently, she rocked him, as a mother might a babe, stroking his back until he relaxed. When he had calmed, she pulled back to look him in the eye once more.

"It's over and done now, Pet," she said with finality. "You transgressed, you were punished, and you're forgiven. We'll speak more of it tomorrow, but, for now, it's time to sleep." She smiled, tucking them both back into bed. "Goodnight, Pet," she murmured, placing a soft kiss to his brow. "I love you."

"Sleep well, Mistress. I…I am yours."


End file.
